The Park
by EmperorArcana
Summary: "Hey, England? ...What's your favorite sound?" A quick USUK drabble, written off a quick idea I got on the road once. Pretty fluffy- no, scratch that, VERY fluffy.


**A/N: **Agh fff I'm so proud of this. XD It gave my beta diabetes!  
I don't own Hetalia. If I did, something similar to this would be canon, and all the FrUK fans would gag.  
Enjoy~

* * *

"Hey, England?"

"Yes?" He answered, tuning in to what America had to say. The two nations were sitting in a park close to England's house, both of them leaning on the trunk of a rather large tree. They could not peer over at each others' faces, as they were sitting on opposite sides of the trunk. There was a light, cool breeze that tousled the Brit's messy, blonde hair and allowed his facial features to relax. It was rare, moments like this. _It's a shame that Alfred had to ruin it by saying something…_

"What's your favorite sound?"

Arthur mulled it over for a moment. Of course, he _knew_ the answer to this question, but did he really want to say? Their relationship was quite fragile, and had been that way since the Revolutionary times; Arthur was almost _positive_ Alfred did not think so fondly of him as he had that time. He stared at the thin blades of grass between his toes before answering.

"Your voice."

A deafening silence followed. Arthur cringed on the inside, just waiting for the American's boisterous laugh or some kind of sarcastic remark. But that was quite the opposite of what happened. Arthur heard the American shifting, and before he knew it, Alfred was sitting in front of him, cross-legged, a faint smile on his lips.

"Really? That's funny– your voice is my favorite sound, too!"

Arthur looked up from the grass, his wide eyes meeting Alfred's gaze. His cheeks grew red as he searched his mind for a suitable response.

"Y-you really like the sound of my voice?"

"There are a lot of things I like about you, Arthur." America smiled more broadly, scooting closer to the Brit. "Like your eyes, and the way you blush whenever I compliment you." Arthur averted his eyes– he really didn't know _where_ to look, but he did know he didn't want to risk getting lost in Alfred's vivid blue eyes. _Full of life, full of youth._ He thought, a pink dust passing over his cheeks while a small smile graced his features.

"You know what I like most about you, Arthur?"

England dared to glance up into Alfred's eyes. "What would that be?"

"Your smile. I've always loved it, ever since I was really small. Not seeing you smile a lot after the Revolution really sort of made me a bit… sad on the inside, you know?"

Arthur had to admit it, he was surprised to hear America say such a thing. It must have shown on his face, because Alfred laughed.

"Look, Arthur, I know it might _seem_ surprising that I still think about the Revolution, but is it really? I don't think so." He moved even closer, shifting his legs in such a way to where they were crossing over the top of Arthur's. "Why should it seem like you'd be the only one to look back and feel sad?"

England pondered his question. Looking at the American with new eyes, he realized that the git had a point, for once. "It… it just seemed like you didn't particularly _care_ about what you did when you rebelled, other than the fact that you were getting away from me."

"Yeah, but it was a bit more than that," America smiled sadly, leaning forward so his forehead pressed against England's. "And I only realized that a year or so later. I realized I lost a really close relationship. I didn't know how much I missed you and, surprisingly, your cooking." Alfred laughed as Arthur gave him a soft glare. His voice lowered to a whisper. "I… realized I missed you so much one year that on my birthday, after everyone left, I cried. And I didn't see him at first, but Mattie was still around, so I had to tell him why I was crying. He gave me this look like he understood, and we hugged. And I asked him to take out those old toy soldiers once the tears dried. They're still on display."

"_You _cried over what happened back then?"

Alfred nodded, even though it felt incredibly awkward, since their foreheads were pressed together. After that, there was another long silence. Then Arthur spoke.

"Alfred?"

"Hm?"

"You said… you missed it?"

The American looked perplexed. "Missed what?"

"Us… our… our relationship."

"O-oh." Arthur swore he saw the American blush, but a blink and it was gone. "Yeah, I said I did. What about it?"

"When you said that… did you just mean… the familial relationship?"

"At first, yeah. But being here, being in the meeting rooms, just watching you made me think… that maybe I didn't _just_ miss the family aspect, but maybe just the fact that we were _close_."

"Like how we are right now."

"In a sense. I'd prefer us to be a bit closer, actually."

"Alfred, you're nearly on top of me. How could we get any––" Arthur's words were cut off by Alfred closing what little space was left between them. Arthur could swear he was about to pass out, even if it only lasted a few seconds. His stomach flipped, his eyes went wide, and his face went red. America pulled away (as England had nowhere to pull away to; his head was against a tree trunk), and resumed the position they were in before, forehead to forehead.

"Like that."

England could only splutter in response, much to the American's amusement.

"Did I surprise you, Iggy?"

Arthur scoffed. "N-not in the least! And don't call me that."

"Aw, why not? Don't all lovers have nicknames for each other?"

England's eyes went wide. "L-lovers?"

"Yeah! I love you. You love me too, right?"

"I- well, I…" A fierce blush made its way across Arthur's face, and he lowered his voice before answering. "Yes."

"Then it's settled- we're lovers. So I have all the right to a pet name for you."

England considered making a comeback of some sort, but he realized it would just be an empty argument. He huffed, not giving any response, which Alfred immediately took for an agreement. The two remained comfortable, a comfort that would pull them closer together over the course of history.


End file.
